


off the maps

by ahana



Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: Brokeback Mountain AU, Even's POV, M/M, SKAM Fic Week
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-20
Updated: 2017-08-20
Packaged: 2018-12-17 19:09:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11857839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ahana/pseuds/ahana
Summary: “I can’t stop running back to you,” Even whispered into the quiet of the night.Isak looked at him, green eyes unwavering. “Is that a bad thing?”“I don’t know yet.”or, a Brokeback Mountain AU that literally no one asked for.HIATUS [because college is kicking my butt]





	off the maps

**Part I: Even**

_~_   _Skjolden_ _,_ _Norway (1963)_

 

_**i. take**  
_

The walk was a lonely one.

In the past half hour, Even had only passed one person – an old lady in a red bunad with a casserole tucked in her arms like a newborn baby. He hadn’t even noticed her, her footfalls too quiet even in the silence of the road, until her bunad had brushed against his hand as she scurried past him. By the time his instincts kicked in and he had turned around to greet her or say something, _anything_ , she was gone. The mountains surrounded him once again, trapping him in a little bubble that consisted of nothing but the grey road ahead and his lonesome self. If he were a rich tourist from the city, he probably would have been awestruck by the hazy blues and greens of the foothills and the clear glint of the river running alongside him. But he’d been travelling this road for two summers now, lived amidst it for twenty years, and the loneliness was far too deafening.

It was around 7:30 so Even should have been expecting this, really. He needn’t have started the journey this early but after last year’s storm incident, he wasn’t planning on ruining his chances with this job again. Einar was expecting him at 8:30 but Even planned to show up a half hour early, maybe even with a coffee in hand.

A cattle truck drove past him slowly, a rumbling sounding from its underbelly. As it ran over a speed bump on the road, a low moo rung from the back of the truck followed by the jingling of its parts as it disappeared down the road, leaving Even to walk a few thousand steps more.

By the time Even had Einar’s trailer in his eyesight, he realized he was wearing too many clothes and all the walking made his foot cramp, making him walk like his grandma with a strange little limp to the left.

Great. That’s just what he needed right now.

He approached the trailer slowly, his brown shoes scraping against the gravel on the side of the road. There was a boy standing across the trailer, his back leaning against the wall of Einar’s truck garage and a cigarette dangling from his lips. He was intently staring at his feet while his hands fiddled with the buttons of his white shirt. A brown hat sat on his head, his hair framing the edges of it. A hand moved upwards to pull the cigarette away from his mouth allowing Even a glimpse of the boy’s face, as it looked up at the sky.

Even took in a shaky breath.

A nervous expression was painted across his features. The boy couldn’t have been more than eighteen years old, he realized. Even’s eyes flitted to the ground as he took a deep breath and trudged forward, making a conscious effort to not take his eyes away from the stones and dirt under his feet. He sat on the steps of his trailer, not even bothering to dust them off. His ass was going to be soiled and Karin was going to kick him for dirtying his clothes again, but Even couldn’t find himself to care. His stare was fixed on a particularly red rock near his shoes as he tried not to dwell on how intently he was watching the boy’s movements from the corner of his eyes.

As if he sensed Even’s thoughts, the boy turned his head to look in his direction. Even noticed the foot he had been tipping against the wall slip to the ground. His Adam’s apple bobbed, his finger stopped playing with the blue buttons of his shirt but his green eyes never seemed to leave Even.

“Fellas!”

Even’s head whipped to his right catching sight of a balding, bloating man jogging towards them. Einar’s moustache came into view before the rest of his face – furrowed eyebrows, deep scowl and all.

“If you lookin’ for jobs, take your asses into that trailer or don’t fucking loiter around my business.”

Even scrambled to his feet and opened the metal door behind him. He heard quick footsteps rushing behind him, and shakily inhaled when he noticed the same soft brown shoes from outside following his own into the trailer. The shoes stood an arm’s length away from him, right foot slightly on top of the left.

The wooden door slammed shut as Einar stepped into it, jostling past the boy and pushing him into the corner of the trailer. He settled into the plush office chair behind the desk at the end of the trailer. Files lay scattered across the top; a coffee mug was horizontal with its spilt coffee soaking into some of the loose papers and a greying phone stood on top of the mess with its cord spun wildly.

The boy appeared to stand next to him again. Even sneaked another look at his face as Einar tossed some files into the garbage bin behind him. The boy’s face was stoic but his shoulders were tense and his right foot twitched irregularly. A nervous tick, Even guessed. A part of him wanted to reach out and put a hand on the boy’s shoulder, to comfort the boy by letting him know that the job was practically his anyway – Einar hated Even enough for that to happen. The larger and more sensible part of him wanted to push the boy out of the trailer and lock it behind him so that Even’s heart could stop pressing against his chest painfully.

“So. I’m glad two of you showed up because things have changed,” Einar’s voice boomed in the small confines of the trailer, pulling Even’s attention towards him. “I usually need only one person to guard the sheep from predators up on the mountain. But, the dicks at Forest Services came up this year and set up allotted campsites. They’ve got rules and shit about how far we’re allowed to go. The problem, boys? We usually pasture the sheep 3 to 4 kilometers from their regulated sites. And we ain’t bowing to them, are we? Now, I need you to be the camp tender in the main camp,” Einar said, pointing to the boy, and then he faced Even to say, “and you, the herder, are gonna pitch a little tent with the sheep further up on Høgdefjell. You’re gonna stay awake all night with ‘em. Your food is at the main camp but you spend your nights with the sheep. You know how it goes, right Even?”

Even nodded sharply.

“You gotta move early, roll up your tent and make sure you don’t leave a sign in case Forest Services decides to snoop around your asses, yeah?”

Even nodded again and fleetingly wondered if he was expected to be taking notes.

“You, boy,” Einar addressed the boy who had moved slightly to be shielded by Even’s body, “what’s your name?”

“Isak Valtersen.”

 _Isak_ , a small part of Even’s brain repeated softly.

“Isak, you come down to the bridge every Friday noon with a list of the week’s basic supplies you need and my son Julian will pick ‘em up for you. He’ll be there with a truck so you can take your week’s supplies up on the mules. Anything else you need will have to wait till you get off Høgdefjell, clear?”

Isak gave Einar a short nod and pushed his hands behind him. He looked like a soldier taking orders from a general, a schoolboy trying to please the teacher.

Einar picked up a pack of cigarettes lying on the floor and pulled one out. He didn’t even spare the two of them a glance as he said, “we’ll pick you up right here at 6:00 tomorrow, yeah? Don’t fucking be late.”

Einar lit his cigarette and picked up the phone. He paused just as he was about to dial a number and looked up at the boys. He raised his eyebrows and jut his chin towards the door. Too late, Even realized that they’d been dismissed.

The boy – Isak – stepped out the trailer first and walked a little away from Even to stub out his cigarette. As Even shut the dingy door, Isak cleared his throat and faced Even with squinty eyes. Even waited for him to say something but Isak just kept looking. Finally, he spoke.

“If we’re gonna be working together, we might as well try to get along,” Isak said.

Even nodded and against his better judgement, replied, “there’s a bar about two kilometers from here.”

Isak tilted his hat towards the road. “Lead the way.”

 

 

The next mountain found Even sitting in the passenger seat of Julian’s truck. The cab contained way too much shit and Even’s long limbs had very little place for themselves. Isak had squeezed himself into the back, occasionally getting hit in the head by the boxes of sheep supplies on the seat next to him.

The ride up to Høgdefjell, where they were to be situated, was long and windy. It was also empty because, as Julian informed them, tourists weren’t allowed in that part of the mountains. Even realized that most of the roads in their region were lonely. His elbow rested on the window of the truck, holding his head up. They stopped for the cats that crossed the road and reindeer that ate fallen leaves. Julian talked non-stop about Høgdefjell, vividly describing the weather conditions they ought to expect, the best supplies to ask for every week and animals they were allowed to hunt. As Julian gave instructions on the best way to shoot a predatory lynx, Even found himself peering at Isak through the sideview mirror. He was half asleep, his head lolling to the side and then bouncing back up. Dark circles lined his eyes and a quiet yawn pushed out of his mouth. Even faintly wondered if he had gotten any sleep at all. They hadn’t been out too late, in fact they had gone home before the bar began to sell the more expensive alcohol, so Isak should have gotten a good eight hours of sleep.

On the walk to the bar, Even had wondered if he was making a mistake. Being around Isak was clearly a risk, especially outside of work, but then again, he was supposed to be spending two whole months on the mountain with only Isak for company. He figured he ought to practice how to behave around Isak.

They went to a bar that Even knew would be empty at that time of day and ordered some beer. Neither of them spoke, stuffing their mouths with the complementary fries to avoid conversation except for the occasional queries about their lives. Through the four or five questions they exchanged awkwardly, Even already knew way more than he deemed safe about Isak.

Isak had just turned eighteen and was visiting his parents for the summer. He needed a job for the summer (he’d shared suspiciously little beyond that) and he wanted to move to Oslo as soon as he got the money. He liked strawberries, had a best friend called Jonas, and despite scrunching his face as he drank his beers, he ordered a last one for the road.

Even, on the other hand, spent the entire night nursing one beer and fighting the urge to get drunk. Every time a part of him implored to touch Isak or talk to him like he would a lovely girl on a night like that, he had to remind himself of where he was a year ago. It was a road he never wanted to go down, but now he knew that it was the only thing that could stop him from making the same mistake again.

Even now, in the truck, with Julian humming a soft folk song next to him, his thoughts couldn’t help but steer towards Mikael. Flashes of hands pushing him away, blood streaking his bathroom floor, and pungent hospital covers ran before Even’s eyes. His mother crying, Mikael frozen, kicks lashed out at his stomach, chest and legs. Quotes from the Quran, quotes from the Bible, rain splashing against his roof.

Even couldn’t breathe, his back began to crumble as he clutched the door handle. An inhale, an exhale. He caught his reflection in the sideview mirror. His eyes were wide with panic and his breath was uneven. He closed his eyelids and counted fifty sheep and then opened them to a steady line of sight and unfaltering huffs.

He looked at Isak and Julian. They hadn’t even noticed him.

“Alright. We’re here,” Julian announced, after a little while.

Isak shot up in his seat and knocked his head against the roof of the truck. Even let out a wavering chuckle as Isak softly rubbed his head, sharing an exasperated smile with Even in the mirror. Even stepped out of the truck and looked around.

They were high up in the mountains now but still amongst the trees. An area had been cleared out and two sheep trucks stood at the edge of the clearing, a couple of horse trailers further behind them. Even was taken aback by the hundreds of sheep in the clearing, bleating merrily as several blue healer dogs circled them. There were nearly double the number of sheep from the previous year. Even figured Einar must have partnered up with another rearer. Across the clearing, a man stood by a pair of mules tied to a tree and another man wrestled with a runaway sheep.

Julian coughed and said, “Isak, I can show you how to pack a mule, if you want?”

“Oh, yeah. Sure!”

As Isak and Julian walked away, Even was left standing by the blue truck, one arm on the hood and brown cap tucked under his other. His eyes swept his summer home, crinkled peaks and sharp slopes, as his spine tingled with mountain chills. He looked behind him where the height of the mountain tapered off into the village below. Shades of green painted the valley and mist rolled off the foothills in slow waves. Even decided that he would never be over the feeling he got as he stood above the rest of his world, safe from its inevitable collapse.

A bray from his right pulled Even out of his thoughts. He ambled towards the horses, knowing he needed to decide which one would be better for him to ride uphill every day. Usually the horse was picked out for him while he packed his mules, but now he supposed he had Isak to take care of that. The load in his hands was lighter, which was a good thing even if Isak’s presence was not. He fed them carrots from the cab of the trailer and decided the one on the right was what he’d be more comfortable riding. He pulled gently and mounted it, one hand brushing its mane in a relaxing manner. He rode it through the trees to get used to it, balancing the two of them on uneven rocks and adjusting his reins. Occasionally, he found himself observing Isak learning about the canned foods and how to pack a mule. Without realizing it, Even had trotted over to where Julian was explaining the knots to use to secure the packs of supplies.

“Two packs’ll be enough. If you put any more, the poor thing will collapse and my father will hunt you down,” he heard Julian explain to Isak.

Isak chuckled, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“You wanna go or you just want to be packing mules all day long,” Even asked.

“Hold your horses,” Isak muttered, with a smile.

Even let out a surprised snort. Isak turned to face him and Even lifted an eyebrow in question.

“What,” Isak mumbled with a lift of his shoulders, “it was a good joke.” 

Even just shook his head in quiet amusement and steered his horse toward the trails.

The ride up Høgdefjell was a quiet one. Isak and Even rode horseback beside the sheep, Isak leading them and Even in the rear, guiding the sheep forward. The dogs were good at their job, chasing away any lynxes that came too close, so Isak never had to use the gun he’d been given. The terrain was rough but the pleasant storm-less weather prevented any serious mishaps that could have happened. After what seemed like forever, they crossed the tree line and entered a meadow with grass that stood up in penance to the clear sky. The boys let the sheep loiter around as they grazed, while they chose to sit on some of the higher rocks. Even unwrapped their foil covered lunch as Isak coursed through their camping equipment for the fifteenth time.

"Sit down and have some food. You’re going to give me anxiety with all that checking,” Even drawled.

Isak chuckled and crouched down next to Even. “Someone’s gotta pitch the tent.”

“I’ll pitch it. I’m the one sleeping out here anyway,” Even said.

Isak just hummed as he opened a whiskey bottle behind him to take a staggeringly large swig. He brought a hand up to sloppily wipe the drops of whiskey falling from his lips onto his chin. His lips were red, highlighted by the glossy liquid, and parted, exhaling heavy breaths against the cold air. They quivered in the wind and with them, his sharp jaw shook unevenly.

Even hated himself for not being able to look away.

“So, um – what brings you to Høgdefjell,” Isak asked, quietly.

Even contemplated answering Isak. It was a perfectly normal question, one that anyone would ask to start a polite conversation and it could be given a vague and equally polite answer. It would help keep things amicable between them and Isak could also be hinted that Even wasn’t looking to be anything more than coworkers. Still, Even froze and panicked at the very idea of giving this boy a part of him. It was dangerous for Even to mingle with him more than necessary and Even needed to stay away from anything that could harm him the way Mikael did. He still had scars on his back and his mother still reeled when large groups of men walked past their house. There was absolutely no reason to get kicked in the chest again. Thus, there was no reason to answer Isak. Yet –

“This is my third summer up here. Einar’s a friend of the family and pays decent money. Job gets me out of the house to think and write,” Even shrugged, “not a bad deal, if you ask me.”

His voice was monotonous. _Good_ , Even thought, _maybe the boy will get the hint._

Apparently, not. “Third summer? Jesus, I don’t think I can take this quiet for another week and you’ve been doing this for what – six months?”

Even blinked at him. “You’re not going to abandon me in a week, are you?”

Isak laughed heartily and shook his head, “Nah. Need the money too much.”

Even wanted to ask him so many questions. Why did he need the money so much? The job actually doesn’t pay the amount it’s worth, so he must be quite desperate to be up here. Didn’t he have anything else to do with two months of his summer? Even had no one and came up to write and get stuck in his own head. He doubted Isak’s reasons were the same as his. Maybe he wanted the money to get to the city? Even hadn’t thought Isak wanted to move to Oslo right away. What made him want to move to Oslo anyway, into the noise and away from the quiet? Even had so many questions, but he just nodded and took a bite out of his sandwich.  

They didn’t talk for a while, a calm lull resting between them as they watched the sheep graze, until Isak cleared his throat.

“So, you write?”

_Fuck, what was this boy’s problem with silence?_

“Sometimes,” Even said, curtly.

Isak nodded. “What do you write?”

“Stuff.”

“Wow. Great conversation.”

Even huffed out a laugh and finished his sandwich. Isak didn’t push him any further and Even was grateful for that. He walked over to the tent supplies and began to assemble his home for the night. Isak stood up and packed his things slowly. Even noticed Isak did a lot of things slowly.

“D’ you need help puttin’ up your tent,” Even blurted out. He hadn’t meant to ask Isak that but he supposed it would be polite enough to excuse his earlier behavior.

“Nah. I’ll be good.”

“Alright.”

And with that, Isak walked over to his horse, made sure all the supplies were tied properly and his mules were awake enough for the trek to the main camp. He got on the horse and waved a hand in Even’s general direction, concentrating too much on soothing his antsy horse, and then he was gone, hidden by woods and leaves.

 

 

The week went by smoothly. Even tended the sheep all night, Einar’s faithful gun by his side. He packed up at the crack of dawn, erased any signs that showed he was there and then galloped to the main camp where Isak would just be waking. He took a bath and washed his old clothes in the stream nearby while he let Isak wake up and cook breakfast from the numerous cans of beans and corn and beans and corn. Then, it was Isak’s turn at the stream as Even ate his breakfast, tried to think only of his breakfast, and cooked lunch for them to take up the mountain. After a few minutes of Even sketching the trees around him or writing four-lined poems about the silence while Isak prepared his horse for the journey upstream, they left the main camp and hiked up to the meadow where the sheep were waking. Even, then, laid out in the shade and slept while Isak tended to the sheep. At noon, they had lunch to the tune of some of Isak’s cheery songs and Even went back to sleep for a couple of hours.

It was always quiet, with little to no words spoken and only their hustling and rustling echoing between them, until the journey back to the main camp. Even figured that’s when the silence finally got to Isak. Isak talked about anything and everything he could. He explained some of the weird behaviors of the sheep, told embarrassing stories of his friends and even sang to the rhythm of his horse’s trots. Even, unsurprisingly, paid attention to everything Isak said. It was hard not to. He was a moth too close to a flame; he couldn’t look away. 

Because of this, he learnt way more about Isak than he had ever intended to. At first it was scary and Even had spent a good two hours working himself up over the new developments. But in the middle of the woods, with no one to see them, it was easy for Even to not think of th consequences and just _be_. He joined in on Isak’s conversations, shared his own stories, joked about Isak’s terrible aim, and talked about books he wanted to read. Isak payed apt attention, contributing and smiling. It’d been so long since Even had had a friend like Isak that Even couldn’t help but indulge in the feeling.

At night, Even cooked dinner again because Isak was a terrible cook when it came to anything outside the realm of cans. They talked over their dinners, drank some whiskey and then, Even, happily buzzed, left to take care of the sheep. The routine was well set and Even was comfortable with the way things were between Isak and him.

Until the storm arrived.

It was unexpected, arriving after the boys had finished their dinners and had gotten a little drunk. It began drizzling on their fire and in a couple of minutes, rose to a heavy downpour. Thunder boomed across Høgdefjell. Isak and Even hurried into Isak’s tent as lightning lit up the outside world for bright seconds.

“Holy shit,” Isak exclaimed, “where the fuck did that come from?”

Even laughed. “Fuck if I know!”

“Well, I guess the sheep are alone for the night,” Isak said as he handed Even a blanket from one of the bags. He took another blanket out and covered his legs with it.

“Why? You think it won’t stop?”

“No way. I think it’s here for at least a couple hours and by then it’s too dark for you to go back.”

“Shit.”

“Why are you worried,” Isak frowned, “do you think Einar will find out?”

“He always finds out,” Even said with an unamused chuckle, “this happened last year too, except it was a blizzard. Thirty sheep died and Einar didn’t pay me two weeks’ worth o’ money.”

“Shit,” Isak muttered.

“Shit indeed, Isak,” he agreed.

Isak jostled around the tent and created some space for Even to lay down. “Well there’s nothing you can do about it now, unless you want to get yourself killed by some wild lynx.”

Even considered his options in his head even though he knew Isak was right. He could only hope that all three hundred sheep made it out of the storm alive.

“Eh,” he said, aiming for nonchalant, “I have other ideas for my death.”

It was supposed to be a joke, but clearly Even missed the mark by a kilometer because Isak suddenly stopped moving and turned slowly to look at Even for a few seconds. Thunder reverberated between them and the tent shook with the boom. Then, Isak went back to his organizing and asked with as much blasé as Even thought he could muster, “You’ve thought about that?”

Even didn’t know what to say. He could explain the thoughts he sometimes had in the middle of the night, about his life and his family. He could explain how he’d never been anything but a burden and a ruin. But, Isak didn’t need to hear any of that. Even didn’t want to lie to Isak but he didn’t want to tell him the truth either.

He shook the blanket free and tucked his legs under it. He slid his body down the bed roll, pulled his jacket under his head to act as a pillow and laid down on his back. Isak had also squeezed into his roll, the expanse of his clothed back facing Even.

“Yes,” he said, in response. And that was that.

The alcohol they had drank outside was slowly getting to Even. As Isak’s breathing became even and soft, Even’s mind wandered over the past few days. He ran through every conversation he had had with Isak in his head and tried to find some sign that proved Isak was just like Mikael.

He found none.

Even expected flares to be sent up in his head and sirens shrieking. Instead, his head was quiet and empty. He didn’t know if that was because of all the whiskey he had downed outside or because of the quiet body next to him half-asleep, but Even chose to think it was latter.

And then, he didn’t think.

On an impulse, he reached for Isak’s hand that lay on his side and tentatively pulled it toward his crotch. Isak’s hand landed where he wanted it and Even let out a weak gasp.

Suddenly, Isak’s hand was jerked back and Even heard the frantic rustle of bed sheets and blankets. A fraught Isak sat up to face Even. His eyes were wide and his face had a wild expression on it. Even couldn’t decipher it, not in his drunk state. Isak’s mouth was hanging open and Even caught unsteady exhales leaving his mouth. His hand was frozen midair from where he had pulled it away from Even like it was on fire.

Even sat up and just looked at Isak.

Isak’s chest was heaving and Even couldn’t breathe. “Wh – What –”

Even’s eyes never left Isak’s.

For a while that’s all the two boys did. They looked at each other as rain pittered and pattered outside their tent. Purple streaks of lightning allowed them to glimpse each other’s face, otherwise concealed in the dark. Then, Isak moved.

He surged forward and his face was millimeters away from Even, eyes fanning Even’s cheeks and lips just a breath away. His eyes flitted down to Even’s lips. Even flicked his tongue out to lick them and Isak’s own lips parted at the sight. His eyes shot up to look at Even’s eyes. Even hoped he saw nothing but anticipation in them. He didn’t know what he was doing, he didn’t know where this was going and he didn’t know why the fear in his brain wasn’t coming, but he was anticipating Isak’s next move and he _wanted_ Isak to know that.

Isak tilted his head and his lips touched Even’s like a spring breeze, soft and unsure of itself. Even pressed his lips harder to Isak’s, to give him the confidence to continue, and immediately the kiss took a life of its own. It turned hungry as Isak fisted Even’s white shirt and Even ran his hands all over Isak’s back. Even refused to break apart. He pushed his hand into Isak’s curls, fucking them up in the most delicious way possible, and pulled Isak close. Isak’s chest touched his own and his legs were swung across Even’s so he was straddling him. Isak pulled back to adjust himself, accidentally sitting on Even’s dick and Even was _absolutely_ _done for_. He tilted his head upward, capturing Isak’s lips once more as Isak’s left hand held onto Even’s cheek. It was intense and hot and frenzied and Even had never wanted anything more.

He slid his hands down Isak’s chest and hurriedly unbuckled his belt. Isak got up from where he was sat, instantly making Even whine softly. He turned around, his back to Even once again, and pulled his pants down. Then, he turned to look at Even with raised eyebrows and an expectant look on his face. _Oh, Even could get with this._ He briskly drew his own pants down and moved towards Isak’s waiting body. He curled a hand around Isak’s bent back and kissed, bit, _licked_ his neck. As Isak let out a moan that made his dick twitch, Even shut his mind off.

He wasn’t talking, he wasn’t thinking, he was just being.

 

 

Even woke up with a shooting pain in his left arm and a headache that nearly deafened him. He groggily turned on his side and was met with the sight of Isak sleeping. His hair was ruffled and fanned out on the bed roll, little huffs coming out of his mouth. Even’s eyes slid down, against his will, to Isak’s naked chest, dotted with moles and lined with Even’s marks. His left arm covered his eyes from the sunlight seeping into their tent and his right was extended towards Even, palm upwards. Even assumed that’s where his sprain came from, the hand holding.

He quietly folded his blankets and walked out of the tent, careful not to wake Isak.

Once outside, he couldn’t stop thinking about what may have happened the previous night. He knew they fucked. He wasn’t a fool; the picture was right in his face. But Even could only remember pieces of the night, like a picture strip from a photo booth. He could see Isak kissing him, Isak bending over, his own hands curling around Isak’s thighs, Isak’s body moving with each thrust, screams of their names ringing in the night and the aftermath – a fuddled Isak falling down next to him and Even’s eyes unable to stay open. But he could see them in blinks, not the whole film.

He needed the whole film, to see what he couldn’t, to know he wasn’t imagining any of it. He _needed_ it to be different from last time.

Even rushed to pack his horse. He didn’t bother taking a dip in the stream or making breakfast. He was desperate to get out of the camp until he remembered every detail from the night before, until he was sure of every moan, sigh and expression that was exchanged between Isak and Even.

His trudge up the mountain was louder than the storm’s thunder. His brain was firing scenes at him and everything he did on the outside was robotic, unclear to his foggy mind that could only concentrate on Isak’s breathing.

_What had he done?_

He tormented himself with the same question while he counted the sheep (all safe, none missing) and checked on the dogs’ health (strong and alive). He sat himself on the highest rock that overlooked the meadow and pulled out his book from the pocket of his jacket as a distraction. His pencil moved across the page and before he could stop himself, he was drawing the stretch of Isak’s back – the small, the freckles, the veins and the pale smoothness. He only had to kill time until Isak got up the mountain.

He closed his eyes, leaned back against the rock and tried not to think about Isak deciding not to come up to him.

If Isak didn’t come up, it would only mean he ran down. Down the mountain and straight to Einar. Maybe even the police, or the first person Isak saw. They would listen to Isak talk about how Even kissed his neck and fucked him in the dead of the night. They would protect him from Even and his unnatural, _evil_ way of looking at people. Then, they would gather more people, maybe more than the last time, and march up the mountain with bats and sticks. Isak would tell them where he would be, and one by one, the men would raise their arms against the thought of Even touching Isak. They’d probably catch him lying in the exact same position, legs and arms straight down like a corpse. Wouldn’t that be nice for them? He was already positioned the way they wanted him to be.

First, they’d bring their words on him. Loud screams of God punishing him to the pits of hell and removing this disease from the earth. When he lay unresponsive, they would bring their feet and fists down on him. Some of them would land in new places – his thighs, his neck maybe – and some would reopen old wounds – his back, his chest, his jaw. Through all of this, Isak would stand in the back, safe from Even.

Suddenly, a hand touched his shoulder and Even startled awake, his back stiff as he turned around in a panic. He saw Isak sitting on his knees behind him, a hand frozen midair just like the night before, and immediately calmed down before his mind fired up again.

Why was he here? What was he still doing here is he alright has he come to warn Even out of pity what is happening why is –

“Are you okay,” Isak asked, soft as the morning.

Even couldn’t speak; he couldn’t move. His chest was still heaving and his hands were slipping off the rock because of the sweat.

“Listen, what happened last night was a one-time thing,” Isak said and Even felt himself begin to nod to assure Isak that he would never think of making another move until the boy spoke again, “what _will_ happen, is also going to be a one-time thing.”

Isak sat down in front of Even with a somber expression, his eyes pleading but his face not giving anything else away. He had thought about this a lot, Even realized. He had thought about this and he _wanted_ it.

“Okay,” Even muttered, helplessly.

Isak was here. And, Even was alright.

“Okay,” he repeated.

**Author's Note:**

> tw: mentions of violent homphobia
> 
> Some of the technicalities about their work are wrong because I didn’t understand much of it in the beginning and by the time I did, I had written quite a bit already. Also, I have never written smut before so if that bit was awkward, I’m sorry.
> 
> Høgdefjell means high mountain according to google translate. Thank you Marte for the name and thank you Mackenzie for being super cool and beta-reading this <3
> 
> Hope you all enjoyed this! I’m going to try to get chapter two up as soon as I can, because I'm absolutely in love with this fic idea.


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